Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 (27 page)

In three days, she would go back to some WitSec-manufactured life and Griffin would go back to the tediousness of his. She would be gone for good. And he was glad about that.

He ignored the voice in his head that called him a liar. He had to spend time with Laura; she was his assignment. But he couldn't allow anything, especially his emotions, to interfere with doing his job. All he had to do was keep things professional between them until she was gone.

* * *

Laura's disappointment and impatience from her conversation with Griffin still lingered two hours later. All she could do was keep a low profile. The inactivity, the helplessness churned inside her like acid.

Griffin had tried to boost her spirits by sharing what he'd learned so far about the person they had seen leaving Rick Hughes's house last night. They knew that man wasn't the person who'd shot at Griffin, but they didn't yet know if he was the registered bike owner. And there was still the possibility that the preacher was the one who'd fired on Griffin in the parking garage.

A heaviness hung over her. Laura wasn't sure if it was due to the side effects of her second injection a few hours ago or because of Vin. She had no energy, and the tiredness was aggravated by her latest bout of nausea and the soreness in her bones and muscles.

Telling herself not to dwell on the discomfort, Laura's thoughts turned to last night and the time she'd spent with her bodyguard. Griffin Devaney was tight-lipped, but she had managed to get a few things out of him. His hometown, for one, and the bombshell that he had once been engaged.

It was difficult to imagine the self-contained loner getting that close to anyone. What had his fiancée been like? How long had they been engaged?

Questions about the woman who had walked away from an injured man had dominated Laura's thoughts. Although that wasn't the only thing that had stayed with her since Griffin had opened up.

The interest she'd seen in his blue-green eyes still made her heart beat a little faster. It also made her want to know everything about him, especially what had happened with his fellow SEALs. When she had tried to find out, he'd immediately changed the subject, just as he had on her first day here.

Laura got the message loud and clear. Whatever had happened was off-limits and Griffin carried the burden like a scar. She wondered if her aunt knew the story. If anyone did.

If she could stay longer, get better acquainted with him, would he tell her? She would never know. Once she left here, she would probably never see him again. Just as she wouldn't see her father.

She'd been right to think that yesterday's visit would be her last. The separation from him and Joy hollowed her out just as much as it had when she had “disappeared” ten months ago. All because of Vin.

Resentment blazed through her. The longer she was here, the more it enraged her. She would have loved to take out her frustration by running or kickboxing or doing some other exercise, but she barely had the steam to walk around. Her insides felt as if they were on fire.

The slight symptoms she'd suffered yesterday were nothing compared to today. In addition, she battled the anxiety that followed her like a shadow.

She was jumpy, and earlier she'd prayed, asking for guidance. To combat her nerves, she'd called Marshal Yates for their daily check-in. He had offered her some hope. That was what she should focus on.

The soreness in her body made her feel brittle, broken, and the nausea seemed to be getting worse. Lying down on the sofa until Griffin arrived sounded like a good idea. She slowly made her way to the soft suede couch in the living room.

Just as she toed off her shoes, a sudden burst of noise from outside the house caused her to jump. A mini explosion followed from the same area, even louder.

Icy fear paralyzed her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Were those gunshots? They sounded like gunshots.

Heart racing, Laura struggled to stay calm. Maybe the sounds had been caused by tree branches that had been sheared off by the wind. Or something else broken loose by the gusts of frigid air.

Even so, she pocketed her phone and headed across the wood floor, aiming for Griffin's secret room. She listened hard as she walked into the laundry room and pushed the button on the bottom of the clothes rod.

The back of the linen cabinet swung open and Laura started down the stairs, only now realizing she had left her shoes by the sofa. Another emphatic pop-pop-pop jolted her. The wind howled sharply and she could hear the heavy creak and groan of the trees. Forget her shoes.

Motion-triggered lights flashed on as she made her way to the bottom of the staircase. She stopped at the edge of the large room that housed Griffin's computers and security equipment.

Shaking now, she could barely punch in the code that turned off the laser security beams protecting the entrance. The all-clear ding had Laura padding across the dark tile floor to the bank of flat-screen monitors.

Cameras surveilled every inch of Griffin's property. Between the house and the barn beyond, Laura saw movement. Monitor Two showed a man wearing a black ski mask approaching. He moved closer to the back door that led into the living room.

Panic ripped through her. Before she could blink, a noise like a car backfire cracked the air. Louder than the first noise. Closer. Then she caught the acrid stench of smoke.

She whirled and raced to the vault and the underground shooting range where she would have her pick of weapons and ammunition. Sweat slicked her hands and prickled her neck. Biting back a whimper at the fiery agony in her bones, Laura stopped in front of the steel door with its engraving of the SEAL trident.

She bent to the recessed dark glass panel in the wall so her retina could be scanned. As Griffin had promised, a beep sounded, confirming that he had indeed added her to the system.

She placed her clammy hand on the panel. A different tone buzzed and the vault's bolt snapped open. Heart racing, she glanced over her shoulder as she rushed inside, laboring to pull the steel door shut behind her. She ignored the stings of pain in her arms and legs and moved slowly to the closest of the two walls full of weapons.

She chose the Walther PPK she'd used for practice. At the waist-high cabinet, she opened the third drawer down and grabbed a box of cartridges.

The intruder had to have been sent by Vin. How had he found her? Griffin's home was the one place he could control her security. If someone had tailed him here, he would have noticed and told Laura. He wouldn't have come home until he'd ditched them.

She froze. Aunt Joy's missing burner phone. It held a record of their phone calls and it must have a GPS signal. That had to be how this guy knew her exact location.

Fumbling for her own burner phone, she called Griffin.

“Hey—”

“Somebody's here!”

“On the property?”

“Yes. He was almost to the back door by the time I got downstairs.”

“Okay, I'm already on my way. I should be there shortly. Are you in the vault?”

“Yes.”

“Locked in?”

“Yes.”

“Are you armed?”

“Yes.”

“I just took the turn for the road leading to the house.”

“Hurry!” Trembling, her muscles burning, she slid down the wall and sat facing the door. She loaded a clip the way Griffin had shown her and shoved it into her gun.

With unsteady hands, she aimed the weapon straight ahead, ready to use it if she had to. Her body throbbed with pain as she tried to breathe through the agony and stay alert.

Laura wasn't sure how long she sat there, but she jerked to painful attention when the door's lock clicked loudly. Pure terror drove through her. Quivering and icy cold, she gripped the gun tighter as the steel door began to open.

SEVEN

G
riffin's truck skidded to a stop in front of his house, spraying gravel and dirt. No one was at the front door.

He jumped out, pulling his gun as he raced to the edge of the house. He paused, peering around the corner to make sure he wasn't walking into an ambush. The sudden snick of a lock told Griffin the security bars had been activated. Metal bars slammed down over all the windows and doors.

Griffin took off running and rounded the back of the house in time to see a man making tracks toward the barn and a faded green pickup waiting for him. As the man neared his truck, Griffin debated giving chase but knew he wouldn't reach the barn in time to stop the guy. Besides, he was more worried about Laura.

Sliding his gun into the small of his back, he approached the back door leading into the living room. Smoke puffed out from the pump room. A quick look told Griffin the fire was out. At the living-room door, he punched in a code on the keypad mounted inside the frame and the iron bars shot quietly up into place.

His chest tightened as he went through the laundry room and started downstairs. There were no signs that anything had been disturbed, no signs of foul play. Good.

He went down the stairs two at a time. The instant he set foot in the underground room housing his security equipment, he sprinted across the floor and punched in the vault's override code.

The lock snapped free and he opened the door. There she was, sitting on the floor with a gun pointed straight at him. Relief nearly bowled him over. On reflex he scanned the room, though he knew no one else was there.

Upon seeing him, Laura sagged against the wall. “Griffin,” she breathed out shakily.

Not wanting to spook her, he walked slowly toward her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, still training the weapon on him. The gun wobbled.

He went to one knee in front of her, careful not to move quickly. “You can put the gun down now.”

“Someone's here.”

“No. He ran off. There's no one else.” Griffin lifted her chin so she would look into his eyes. “I promise.”

“How did they find me? Could it have been Joy's burner phone?”

“I think so.” Griffin didn't like that, but at least he knew what had become of the missing phone. And now that he was aware, they could take precautions.

“I heard noises. Like gunshots.”

“I think it was the water pump shorting out. The intruder probably torched it to create a diversion. You're safe.” He eased the Walther from her hand and put the weapon to the side.

She was wan, her mouth pinched white with pain. She shook as if she were in subzero temperature.

“You're hurting?” He gently moved a strand of hair out of her eyes. “The injection?”

She nodded, moving as if to get up.

“Here.” Shifting his weight, Griffin carefully slid one arm beneath her legs and one around her back.

She clutched at his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you somewhere more comfortable.”

She relaxed against him as he carried her to the black leather sofa and eased her into a sitting position.

She still trembled and all Griffin cared about was helping her. He grabbed a cream-colored throw from the back of his couch and drew it around her as gently as he could. Even so, she winced when his hand brushed her arm.

“How about some ibuprofen?”

“Maybe in a minute.” She inched closer as if she didn't want him to move.

That was fine with him. He leaned close, her breath tickling his jaw. “You're still shaking. Do you want another blanket?”

“No,” she mumbled.

“Are the side effects supposed to get worse than this?”

“I hope not.”

He wished she could stop taking the shots, but that wasn't a possibility. Not one she would consider, anyway.

He drew in her fresh soap scent. “What happened earlier?”

“I heard a loud crack, then another. I came down here and there were more noises. Louder, closer. You said you saw someone.”

“A man. Didn't get a good look.”

“Did he make it inside the house?”

“No.” Griffin explained about the security bars.

He reached across her lap for the remote and pointed it toward the bank of security monitors. “Look at the displays. There's no one on the property now.”

She moved her head so she could see the screens. Her hair brushed the back of his hand and the strands were like silk. He had to make an effort not to lean in. Irritated at himself, he rewound the footage for each camera.

Different views flashed by as he studied the screens. Finally, he saw the man approaching the house and disappearing into the pump room. Because there was no access to the house from there, Griffin hadn't installed mechanized security bars on that door. There was a popping noise, then a small explosion. At the sound, Laura started.

He gestured toward the monitor. “What you heard was the pump blowing a fuse before it ignited.”

“I did smell smoke.”

He nodded.

Her blue eyes were cloudy with discomfort. “Once I heard the noises, I came down here and called you.”

“You followed your instincts, which is exactly what you should've done.”

She shifted, which fitted her more snugly under his arm. “Did you find out anything new?”

“We can talk about that in a minute.” Griffin liked having her so close. “Can I get you anything? Water? Juice? Crackers?”

“No, thank you.” She seemed fragile, weary. “I feel a little better. Did you speak to the motorcycle owner?”

He nodded, debating about how much, if anything, to tell her. He'd wanted to wait until she was past these symptoms, but she plainly didn't. “There's no connection between him and Arrico. Ghost did find a link between the bike owner and Pastor Hughes. They know each other from the prison ministry at the Oklahoma County Jail and that's the extent of it. Before I headed home, I stopped by the office to run ballistics on the bullets from the parking garage.”

“And?” Her gaze fastened on him.

“They matched a registered gun, but it was reported stolen about five years ago and nothing has come up about it since.”

“So that's a dead end.”

“Yes.”

“Did you learn anything else from your visit with the bike owner?”

“I did get something.” They were talking about the job, but none of this felt professional to Griffin any longer. Right now, with her delicate shoulder beneath his hand, it felt personal.

“Because he lives in an apartment, he asked Pastor Hughes if he could put the motorcycle in his garage for a few days while he went to visit his mother in Dallas.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why didn't he just ride his motorcycle down there?”

“Icy roads south of the Oklahoma border. Our weathermen forecasted the same. We just didn't get it this time.”

To say Oklahoma weather was unpredictable was an understatement.

“He left the keys in the ignition in case Hughes needed to move the bike for any reason.”

Her eyes widened. “So Hughes very well could've taken the motorcycle out that afternoon.”

“Or any other time he chose,” Griffin confirmed.

“Maybe we're closing in on the person who tried to shoot you.”

“I hope so.” Griffin thought she seemed a little more steady, but he wasn't quite ready to let go of her.

He tried to get his mind back on track, focus only on the case.

She glanced up at him, tears welling in her eyes. One slipped down her cheek. “I was really afraid that Vin's goon was going to get to me.”

“But he didn't.” Griffin thumbed away the wetness, taken with the dewy perfection of her skin. “Lucky for him, because you looked like you knew what to do with that gun.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “I had a good teacher.”

“Do you think you could've used it if you'd needed to?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good.” Oddly enough, he felt a flare of pride at that.

“It's all thanks to you.” She lifted a hand to his face and Griffin's fingers automatically curled around her wrist.

He meant to move her hand away, but he couldn't make himself do it. Slowly, she leaned toward him and Griffin went still.

She brushed his lips with hers and he lowered his head even as he told himself to draw away. He nudged her closer. The kiss was soft and fiery at the same time, something he had never experienced. And shouldn't be experiencing now.

Somehow he found the presence of mind to break the kiss. There was a flash of hurt in her face before she masked it. “Since I'll be leaving in a little over seventy-two hours, I guess there was no point in that.”

“No,” he said hoarsely, even though he badly wanted to kiss her again.

“We can't do it again,” she said.

“No.” That seemed to be all he could say at the moment.

He wanted more, wanted to at least explore what might have been between them, but in a few days she would disappear from his life and into a new one of her own.

Cheeks pink, she looked away. “I think I'm able to walk now.”

“All right.” Relief mixed with frustration. “Let's get you back upstairs.”

She still trembled, but not as violently as before. He rose and held out a hand. She let him help her up, then preceded him to the stairs.

As she moved slowly up the steps, she muttered, “I'm not sorry.”

Griffin didn't think he was supposed to hear that. He wasn't sorry, either, even though the kiss had been a mistake.

He wasn't kidding himself any longer. When he'd gotten her phone call about the intruder, his heart had constricted hard. If something had happened to her...

He stopped the thought. She was a client, a job. He had to remember that.

But professional was the last thing Griffin felt when he was with her. Still, that didn't mean he had to act on it.

* * *

Never, in any of her relationships, had Laura kissed a man before he'd kissed her.

As shocked as she'd been, she thought Griffin had been more surprised. His face, usually so inscrutable, had been easy to read. He'd felt the connection between them. Even so, both knew it could go no further. Maybe that was why Laura couldn't make herself regret kissing him.

Afterward he'd wanted to put some space between them, and she'd known they should.

She'd napped for a couple of hours and felt much better when she woke. Though she still had some discomfort, she was no longer nauseous, and though her bones ached, they didn't burn as deeply as they had before. She walked into the kitchen. The house was quiet and she wondered if Griffin was downstairs in the Batcave.

She wasn't sure she was ready to face him after planting that kiss on him. Maybe she would just wait for him to come upstairs.

The door from the garage opened and he walked in, his USMC T-shirt and gray shorts soaked in sweat. His gaze crashed into hers. “Hope I didn't startle you.”

“You didn't. Not really.” She sounded breathless, which she didn't understand. Should she apologize for kissing him even though she wasn't sorry? “You've been running?”

“Yeah.” He dragged a forearm across his perspiring forehead. “Got my ten miles in.”

Ten miles. Even if she'd liked jogging, Laura didn't think she would've been able to make ten miles. Of course, he was a SEAL. That was probably nothing to him.

He walked over to the sink, grabbed a glass from the cabinet next to the kitchen sink and filled it with water from the tap. He downed the liquid in about three gulps. He refilled the glass and took another swallow before turning to face her. “Want some?”

“No, thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” She couldn't quite meet his gaze. “Cooped up, actually.”

“I'd be going stir-crazy.” He studied her for a moment. “I was headed to the barn to finish my workout, if you'd like to walk down with me?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly, anxious to move, to get out of the house for any reason. “If you're sure I won't be in your way.”

“You won't.”

They went down the hall past the guest bedroom and then through his room, where Laura had never been. The area was spacious with a king-size bed, a matching tallboy dresser and nightstands on either side of the bed. A navy comforter and a matching valance over the French doors were the only color in the room. Combined with the dark wood, the decor pegged the room as completely masculine.

Laura paused at the French doors then she followed Griffin out. They stepped onto a back porch furnished with four seasoned rocking chairs that looked out on a small pond. Brittle cracked grass edged the water, which glittered like murky glass in the afternoon sun.

Yesterday it had been storming with a brisk north wind. Today it was nearly fifty degrees, the sun was shining and the wind was relatively calm.

Laura smiled. She had actually missed the crazy weather here.

She followed Griffin around the corner of the house to a long attached room. Opening the door, he motioned her to look inside.

“This is where the water pump is kept, along with a propane tank hookup and generator.”

“This is just above the Batcave,” she said.

He nodded. “That's why the sounds were so loud when the pump shorted out and caught fire. It's fixed now. I worked on it while you were resting.”

The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Griffin guided her out the door and locked it. “I just wanted you to know where everything happened earlier. And to tell you that if the power goes out, the generator will kick on.”

“Thanks.”

“Ready?”

She nodded, walking with him down a path that cut through a pasture of winter-brown grass.

He glanced at her. “I found out that Arrico's attorney has a birthmark on his left wrist and it spreads to the back of his hand. Could that have been what you saw that day?”